It had been a long two days and Jensen showed no signs of waking up anytime soon. The doctors said he was stable, but Clay wouldn't believe it until Jensen could tell them he was okay himself. The last few minutes of the drive had been harrowing, especially after Jensen stopped breathing. The CPR had done next to nothing, thanks to all the blood filling Jensen's throat, but they'd done enough to keep him alive. Clay had been tempted to try to find something to use as a chest tube, but luckily they pulled up to the hospital before he had to resort to that.

The surgery had taken hours, with the surgeons having to repair Jensen's lung. By some miracle, the bullet had ricocheted away from his spine and heart and lodged itself into one of his ribs. If it had gone the other way, Jensen wouldn't have even made it to the van. He was currently on a ventilator, to give his body the break it needed to heal. And the tube that was grotesquely sticking out of his side was slowly draining his chest cavity. All in all, it was a disaster, but not a tragedy.

They'd all been taking turns sitting in the cramped hospital room, never leaving Jensen alone for a second. They were adamant that they wouldn't be like his old teams, leaving him to get better on his own. At least one of them would be there when he finally woke up, no matter what.

There hadn't been much talking within the team during the wait, but Clay could feel the tension building. He'd made it a point to not leave Pooch and Roque alone together, because that fight was brewing. They were all currently in the room and Pooch kept shooting glares in Roque's direction. To his credit, Roque wasn't glaring back. But things had to come to a head eventually.

"Is he quiet enough for you now, Roque?" Pooch muttered, staring pointedly at the tube sticking out of Jensen's mouth.

"Watch it," Roque grunted.

"No, I'm being serious. You've been an asshole to him from jump and he still put himself in the path of a bullet for you. Ask yourself if you even deserved that," Pooch spat. After they had taken Jensen into surgery, Roque told the others what happened. Apparently, after Roque thought they were clear and was about to sweep the area, Jensen heard a noise and jumped up to take care of the threat. He put himself between Roque and the gunman and the shots they all heard through the comms were Jensen and the other man shooting each other. Once again, Jensen had taken a bullet meant for someone on Clay's team.

"Pooch," Clay said in warning.

"Don't 'Pooch' me!" Pooch snapped, gripping the arms of his chair in anger. "It's not fair for Jensen to be lying here dying for someone who doesn't give a damn about him."

"He isn't dying. And you need to calm down."

"You don't know that. Anything could happen and it'll be all our fault."

"Jensen knew what he was getting into when he joined the Army, so stop talking about him like he is some child to be protected. We all take the same risks and know the repercussions we could face every time we step out on a mission," Clay said seriously. It was one thing to feel bad about what happened, but there was no need to throw around blame and guilt. They'd done everything by the book. Sometimes these things just happened.

"Do you really think that's how it went? How do we know Roque wasn't just trying to get rid of his problem?" Pooch challenged.

"What the hell did you just say?" Roque growled, slowly rising from his chair.

"You heard me!" Pooch hissed, jumping up and pointing in his face.

"Enough!" Clay shouted, stepping in between them and pushing them apart. "I will ban you from this room before I let either of you get us all kicked out, so sit down and calm down." Pooch pursed his lips in agitation, but sat down. He was the last person who wanted to be told he couldn't stay with Jensen. Cougar was sitting back in the corner, watching everything unfold. Clay hadn't heard him say a word since they got Jensen to the hospital besides a few muttered prayers.

"I didn't do anything to hurt Jensen and I thought we'd worked together long enough for you to trust me," Roque snapped.

"Practically giving Jensen heatstroke shows otherwise," Pooch spat.

"You think I wanted this to happen? Yeah, I wanted the kid to screw up a little to prove me right and teach you not to let feelings cloud your judgment when it came to the team, but I sure as hell didn't want this," Roque insisted, waving his hand at Jensen's still body.

"But why? Why was it so important for you to be right about Jensen? Isn't having a person on the team who we actually like important?"

"Not as important as having someone competent!"

"Well, guess what? Even after all your bullshit, Jensen saved your ass and finished the job. So what do you have to say about that?"

"That you were right about him," Roque admitted, even though it looked like it pained him to say the words. Pooch was about to snark something back on instinct but snapped his mouth shut when the words registered in his brain. "He proved that he deserves a place on the team." Pooch sighed, staring over at his injured friend.

"And he only had to go through all this to earn it."

Two more days passed and they were all starting to get antsy. Pooch wasn't snapping at Roque anymore after they disappeared together for a while and both came back a little bruised and bloody. Nothing that required medical attention, but they were sure to be feeling the bruises for a while. Clay didn't care, as long as they got it out of their systems and were able to coexist again.

The doctors said Jensen was improving and they weren't concerned about him not waking up yet, but Clay still wanted it to happen sooner rather than later. He really was too quiet and it was bothering Clay more than he'd like to admit. Even when Jensen was sleeping, he was moving and making noise. But now the only sounds coming from him were artificial.

Pooch had started talking about anything, just filling the room with chatter to hopefully break through to Jensen. Clay didn't know if the idea of people who were unconscious hearing their surroundings was legit, but it wouldn't hurt anyone to try. He recounted his whole relationship with Jolene, going into painstaking detail about every date. Even Jensen would be impressed with the babbling, if he'd been awake to hear it. Clay didn't think he'd heard the other man talk so much in his life.

They were finally rewarded in the early hours of the fifth morning. Pooch had conjured up a chair that laid back from somewhere and was stretched out on it asleep. Cougar was propped against the wall with his hat tipped low, blocking Clay's view of his face. Roque was at a nearby motel, but would be back soon with breakfast for everyone when the sun finally came up.

Clay imagined that Jensen would gradually wake up, blinking against the pull of the drugs and maybe fall back to sleep quickly. He should've known it wouldn't be that easy when it came to Jensen. Clay had never been intubated, besides while fully anesthetized, so he couldn't relate to the discomfort from a personal experience, but if Jensen's reaction was anything to go by, it wasn't very pleasant.

The first thing he noticed was the tiniest shift in Jensen's body, so Clay was on high alert. He stood up from his chair to stand next to Jensen's bedside, eager to see if this was real progress or just a fluke. The nurse call button was closeby, waiting to be pressed. Even if he got one sluggish blink, that would be good enough for now. Clay got more than that.

Jensen's eyes popped open like a villain in a horror movie who you thought had finally been taken out. It was only Clay's battle hardened nerves that kept him from startling back in surprise. Jensen was staring at the ceiling blankly for a few moments until he tried to take a breath and finally realized there was something shoved down his throat. Then it was chaos.

With a strength that surprised Clay, Jensen bucked against the bed like a wild animal, only remaining on the bed thanks to the soft restraints wrapped around his wrists and ankles. Pooch had protested them at first, but the hospital insisted that it was policy while people were intubated, so they couldn't pull on the tube in a drug induced stupor. Now Clay was unendingly appreciative of them.

"Jensen, can you hear me?" Clay asked, pressing the call button like an impatient person on an elevator. He hovered over the side of the bed, putting himself in Jensen's line of sight. Jensen was trapped in his panic, not registering that he was safe. "Look at me, soldier." All the activity finally roused Pooch and Cougar, who sprang up to see their awake friend. Clay held them off a bit, not wanting to overwhelm Jensen while he was so distressed.

"I'm getting a doctor," Pooch said, rushing out of the room. Jensen was trying to move his mouth around the tube, tears of exertion and panic rolling down his temples and into his hair. Cougar was murmuring another prayer behind him, but the Spanish was too fast and quiet for Clay to understand it.

"Jensen, you're okay. I know it's uncomfortable, but the tube is helping you breathe," Clay said, trying to sound as soothing as possible. He wasn't used to taking care of people and he didn't think he was very good at it, which is why he'd never considered having children. But right now he wished he had something like that to offer. "We've got you."

The words finally seemed like they broke through the haze and Jensen's eyes snapped to his. Clay nodded encouragingly, keeping himself steady for Jensen as he tried to calm down. The nurses came in a few moments later, pushing him out of the way so they could get to work. Clay was hesitant to move, but he knew he had to so they could help Jensen. And if they were going to take the tube out, he didn't want to delay it for a single second.

His team huddled together in the corner quietly, trying to stay off everyone's radar so they didn't get kicked out of the room. The staff were fluttering around the bed, calling out stats and asking questions. It looked like insanity from where he was standing, but as long as they knew what they were doing and were helping Jensen, it didn't matter how they did it.

An awful gagging cough and desperate gasp were the best noises Clay had heard in a long time. He'd been so afraid that the last sound he'd hear from the young man were the gurgles of him drowning in his own blood. The nurses stayed for a few more minutes, hooking a nasal cannula under Jensen's nose and freeing him from his bonds. When Clay finally got a good look at him again he looked completely out of it, but it was still a definite improvement.

"Hey Jay, how are you feeling?" Pooch asked, rushing to the side of his bed as soon as it was clear enough for him to do so. Jensen was dropping off into sleep already, but he reached out to grab Pooch's wrist from where he'd rested his hand on the rail of the bed. He started mumbling something and they all knelt down to hear what it was.

"You stayed."